


cadenza

by waspfactor



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Karushuu Week 2021, M/M, Mild Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspfactor/pseuds/waspfactor
Summary: conductor asano wears gloves on his hands.[written for karushuu week 2021 day 1- 'dreams']
Relationships: Akabane Karma & Asano Gakushuu, Akabane Karma/Asano Gakushuu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84





	cadenza

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey welcome to karushuu week 2021! and welcome to 'word association with wasp!' my thought process for today's prompt is as follows- 'dreams' -> 'to have a dream/to aspire' -> 'orchestra au' (deep subconscious to write a band au finally paid off)
> 
> no gov mandated song rec u have been spared for now

The conductor of the university orchestra, Asano, wears gloves on his hands, seemingly at all times. Karma’s never seen him take them off as the man refuses to wash his hands in front of others and no one else in the orchestra have seen them off either.

Karma (being Karma) asks about it one day, after practice. The answer he gets in response is a swift kick to the stomach (ouch) and being made to put away the music stands and chairs ( _ouch_ ). Asano storms out but not before shouting to everyone else about ‘same time next week’ and everyone else waves goodbye to the still-slightly-in-agony Karma.

Putting away the music stands, and chairs is boring and it’s also manual labour which Karma hasn’t done in _years_ so it takes far longer than it really should and by the end, his back is killing him.

One of the trumpeters, the girl with green pigtails waits for him outside the hall, practically ambushing him when he exits. Karma confusedly blinks at her.

“You’re new,” She states, rather obviously. “You don’t know how to handle Asano.” Another obvious fact. Karma was sure he had gotten the read on him (saying that- he doesn’t really know what his read is on Pigtails here so maybe his perceptive skills are off kilter).

Karma rubs his stomach absentmindedly. The shock and embarrassment hurt more than the actual kick. “I assume the gloves thing is off the table?”

“It’s not even in the same _room,_ ” Pigtails shakes her head, hair swinging softly. “You couldn’t pay me to ask him.”

Karma hums to himself, holding up a hand in greeting. “Akabane.”

“Kayano.”

Kayano, who reveals herself to be a theatre and drama student, takes him out for a coffee at a local café. They take a booth, with their instruments propped up next to them. She must be a regular for as soon as they sit down, a waiter practically rushes over to serve them.

“Hey Kayano,” The server, who’s nametag reads ‘Isogai’, greets. His golden eyes flash when he notices Karma slightly pained look. “Asano on the warpath again?”

Kayano jabs a thumb in Karma’s direction. “Newbie here asked for it basically.”

Isogai gasps. “Not the gloves…” He leans down closer to the two, his eyes on Karma. “You know, Maehara, one of the percussionists asked about the gloves once.”

Karma’s still getting used to the new orchestra, still can’t put a name to a face but he kind of remembers a ginger boy. He nods anyways, signalling for Isogai to continue.

“And he didn’t walk for a week.”

Karma rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “If he’s so against being asked about it, he should make it a rule or something.”

“It’s in the form you signed?”

Karma signed that form when he was drunk and even sober, he wouldn’t have read the thing. He blinks owlishly. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Isogai stands back up straight. “Maehara clause coming into effect. Drink on the house for the newbie.” He sighs.

Kayano bats her eyelashes. “Free drink for me…? Your friend?”

Isogai smiles warmly. “No.”

Kayano laughs under her breath. “Ah, it was worth a try.”

At the next practice, Karma tries his best not to make extended eye contact with Asano, lest he be kicked again (or maybe Asano will spear his baton at Karma which would be even worse). He’s introduced to Maehara, the ginger percussionist, at the end of the session.

“I heard you asked Asano about the whole…” Maehara trails off and shakes his hands. “Respect. I mean, not really because it’s a dumb thing to do but. Respect. You go to the café near here? You can get a free drink if you talk to Isogai about it.”

“Yeah, I know. The Maehara clause, right?”

“Ah, my legacy lives on,” Maehara pretends to fawn, fanning his face with his hand. “Surprised you can still walk.”

“He didn’t kick me _that_ hard.”

Maehara waggles his eyebrows at that. “Oh? Maybe Asano’s going soft in his old age.”

“I heard that, you know.” Asano calls out, sticking his head out above the crowd of people. “Anymore of that and you’re out!”

Maehara doesn’t seem too phased by Asano’s threat. “Least your hearing hasn’t gone.”

Karma intends on leaving the hall with Maehara and Kayano, but Asano calls him back.

“I feel like I should apologise,” Asano starts stiffly, posture tight. “I shouldn’t have done that last week.”

Karma’s not _that_ upset by it, so he tries to lighten the mood. “Ah and this apology would have nothing to do with the university’s policy on violence?” He jokes.

Asano frowns. He looks like he might shatter if he tenses up anymore. “I said I’m sorry.”

“And I’m only joking,” Karma raises an eyebrow. “You’re very uptight.” He comments.

“Thank you,” Asano curtsies ever so slightly. “You are very loud.”

A smile pulls on Karma’s lips. “And thank you,” Karma returns the curtsy. “Akabane.”

“Asano.”

As it turns out, Asano’s a student, in the same year of university as Karma but he seems so much older, more tired, stricter. Kayano once called him an old soul trapped in a young body and Karma would be inclined to agree. His favourite pastime is restoring old books and he often frequents lectures that he’s not enrolled in (how beautifully chaotic and curse Karma for not thinking of that first).

“You’ve been getting quite close with Asano,” Kayano comments one day, an intrigued look in her eyes. “Are you…”

Karma shrugs because he actually has no idea. “Does watching bad movies together and analysing them count as dates?”

Maehara frowns. “Uh. Yes?”

Both Kayano and Maehara insist that they’re dating but Karma refutes, saying that, well, _technically,_ they haven’t said anything about making it official. After a few more weeks of seemingly dancing around the question, Karma decides to bite the bullet and ask Asano out.

He blinks in surprise. “I was not aware we were, ah, _courting_ ,” He smiles bashfully. “…Not that I’m complaining.”

Karma bites back a laugh. “Courting? You must qualify for senior citizen discount.”

Asano rolls his eyes, and his smile turns into half a smirk. “Do you want me to decline or not?”

Despite his rather uptight appearance (and the way he practically screams old money), Asano’s ideal date is just getting Chinese takeout and lounging about Karma’s apartment (which is more than fine by Karma).

He sits politely (legs crossed impeccably) on Karma’s grubby couch, as he wraps his hands around the carton of chow mein. “This is good Chinese.” He says, with his mouth half full of food.

Karma flicks a dumpling at him. “Bad manners, Asano.”

Asano dodges the dumpling with ease. “You have bad manners,” He throws it back and Karma attempts to catch it in his mouth. “I’m a guest here, you know.”

Over time, he becomes less of a guest and more of a semi-permanent resident. In honesty, so does Karma; Asano’s apartment is _way_ nicer. Plus, he has a king size bed.

One night, when the sun has dipped well below the horizon and they lay entangled in Asano’s silk bedsheets, Karma notices that even now, after all the late-night vents, all the trauma bonding, all the talk of shitty parents, Asano _still_ wears his gloves.

Karma’s learned the hard way that the gloves aren’t something to be asked about, his stomach still slightly bruised, but that doesn’t stop him keeping his eyes trained on them.

“I used to play,” Asano whispers into Karma’s neck, almost as if he’s ashamed of his words. His breath is ticklish, and Karma has to use a lot of self-control to not tense up and squirm away. “Used to play the violin.”

Karma had guessed that Asano played at least _one_ musical instrument. He was too invested and too talented not to also play an instrument. Karma hadn’t penned him for a violinist, however. “Were you any good?”

There’s a soft exhale. “God, _yes_.”

Karma lets his eyes flutter shut and imagines Asano with his violin, slender figure swaying hypnotically as he gets lost in the music. While Karma plays mainly for fun, Asano’s the type to fully immerse himself in it, to get carried away with the melody. His throat tightens, like a snake coiling around its prey when he realises Asano isn’t the type to stop unless someone stops _for_ him.

“Why don’t you play anymore?” He asks, even though he’s scared to know the answer.

A sigh. “I lost the ability to.” And then Asano pulls away from Karma and the loss of heat makes Karma groan out quietly.

Asano brings a hand up to his mouth and pulls off the glove with his teeth. 

And _ah_. Even in the dim light, it’s quite obvious.

Asano looks away once more as Karma takes his hand, running a thumb over the scars. An unspoken question hangs in the air like a bad smell.

“My father,” Gakushuu answers anyways. “Most complex movement is lost now.”

Karma knows that Asano’s father is dead, has been for almost five years now so there’s no point in making baseless threats (‘I swear I’ll kill that bastard’ is asinine when the guy’s _actually_ dead) and since he’s not a time traveller, there’s no way of preventing this from happening to Asano. Still, that doesn’t stop a myriad of emotions (rage, regret, pity, _rage_ _again_ ) firing up in Karma.

So, for now, he just traces the burn marks gently and hopes that Asano takes the gesture as supportive.

When he wakes up that morning, Asano’s still next to him, sound asleep but the gloves are back on. Karma doesn’t know how to mention it in conversation; it just doesn’t feel right to bring up and Asano’s not the type who wants to talk about it, so Karma decides to leave it, acts like he’s never seen Asano’s hands before.

When Maehara and Kayano ask about it, respectful yet intrigued over Asano’s gloves, Karma shakes his head and changes the topic of conversation.

Asano (ah, well, it’s Gakushuu now, isn’t it?) jolts awake one night, gasping for air as if he’s been starved of the stuff. Karma doesn’t ask (because he knows Asano doesn’t want questions) and instead rubs small circles repeatedly into Gakushuu’s back.

As Karma had predicted, Gakushuu answers the questions that Karma never answered. “I had a dream,” He chokes out through dry sobs, his body near enough convulsing. He doesn’t even let himself cry, Karma notes sorrowfully. His gloves are, of course, still on. “That I could play again.”

Gakushuu doesn’t mention it next morning, and maybe he forgot about the dream he had, but the words are a fog that won’t lift in Karma’s mind. It’s all he can think about, the words repeating again and again in his mind. Next practice, Karma’s so out of it that he gets an earful in front of the whole orchestra. Gakushuu has his hands on his hips and a stern look on his face.

“Akabane,” He lectures. They had agreed, early in their relationship, that when performing, Gakushuu would still refer to him by his last name. “You were late coming in.”

Karma looks at the sheet music and yeah, he _was_ late coming in (read: he missed his cue entirely). “Ah. Sorry.”

Gakushuu’s stern look softens, ever so slightly. “Pay more attention. From the top!”

Karma does pay more attention, specifically, he watches Gakushuu when he’s conducting the violin sections. There’s a look in his eyes as he does so- longingness? Remorseful nostalgia? (There’s a whole other line of thought as to why the poor guy insists on conducting if he misses the violin so much but that’s for another day). As Karma watches, an idea blooms.

It takes a lot of Facebook searching and one whole Youtube deep dive through old, grainy videos but Karma finally finds a violin recital from years ago and the quality is just okay enough for Karma to figure out the make of violin young Gakushuu’s playing.

When the violin comes, Karma nearly breaks the damn thing. It’s way lighter and frailer than a double bass (which, really, should’ve been obvious but regardless) and even the bow is different. Karma’s never played the violin before, has never even held one before today, but it’s still a string instrument, so the same skills apply. He gets the basic posture and works at it for a while. He manages to play the scale and even though it sounds terrible, he’s fairly confident that he could teach someone who _can_ play well.

Gakushuu thinks he’s far sneakier than he actually is and thinks that Karma doesn’t know that he goes to the practice hall late at night sometimes. Karma pushes open the door slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb the other.

He creeps up onto stage and it’s only then Gakushuu notices him, flinching. “What are you doing-“ His eyes automatically snap to the music case. “Is that a…”

“That dream you had,” Karma jostles the violin case gently. “I thought we could try to make it a reality.”

Gakushuu’s eyes narrow slightly and he swallows hard. “Despite how cheesy that is,” And now he looks sad, eyes cast downwards. “I told you. It’s not possible.”

Karma sets down the case and opens it, pulling out the instrument. “Then let _me_ play for you.”

Gakushuu blinks but raises his conductor’s baton anyway as Karma starts to play. As expected, it’s not very good. He’s off time and the violin squeaks like a hamster and the bow feels too delicate in his hands and he’s used to supporting the heavy weight of a double bass and he feels like he could snap this violin over his leg. Gakushuu watches the performance, conducting still (even if it a little less enthusiastic). Karma can tell he’s trying to be supportive but Gakushuu’s wincing still.

Eventually, as Karma near enough brutally butchers a bar, Gakushuu shakes his head.

“Stop,” He instructs, walking over to Karma. “You’re- No. I’m sorry but you can’t play violin.”

Karma laughs, lowering the violin. “I know,” He offers the instrument to Gakushuu. “Would you like to?”

But that scares Gakushuu away. He takes a step back. “ _Karma,_ ” He’s using his conductor voice but calling him by his first name. It makes Karma’s head spin. “I won’t tell you again. It’s impossible. Stop pushing.”

But Karma’s not one to ever stop, he always goes the extra mile. “It’s impossible or you don’t want to try?” Gakushuu’s an easy read, former child prodigy that hides away from the first sight of failure. Karma would easily bet that Gakushuu’s never _tried_ to play with gloves on.

Ah but maybe Karma shouldn’t have pushed too much, and he realises too late that he’s probably overstepping a line that shouldn’t be crossed because Gakushuu’s face darkens instantaneously. He opens his mouth to speak but promptly closes it. He storms past Karma, fiddling with the hem of his gloves as he does so and exits the performance hall.

Karma’s left alone on stage with a violin and the stinging taste of regret.

At the next practice, Karma attempts to speak to Gakushuu but he’s ignored, brushed aside. Karma tries to play it off and hopes that it’s not _too_ obvious but eagle eyed Kayano and gossip magnet Maehara pick up on it.

“Problem in paradise?” Kayano asks after practice. The three of them are on the way to Isogai’s café, which is seemingly a regular occurrence now.

Karma shrugs his shoulders. He’s used to the weird ‘don’t talk about it’ policy Gakushuu’s adopted so he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “Not necessarily.” He says, which is _such_ a lie that it almost hurts to say.

Maehara raises an eyebrow, clearly not fooled. “Asano barely made eye contact with you.”

“I’m near the back.”

It’s a poor excuse and all three of them know it. “So am I but he still looked at me,” Maehara’s smile falters. “Seriously. What’s up? You both look miserable.”

Kayano nods in agreement. “The only thing worse than angry Asano is sad Asano. And a sad you is a _boring_ you.”

“He’s not sad,” Karma mumbles. Saying it out, he’s even less convinced by it. “I’m not sad either.” He adds quickly.

It takes a week of being ghosted and locked out of Asano’s apartment for Karma to realise, that yeah, Gakushuu probably _is_ sad. And it takes one good crying session for Karma to realise that he’s also sad.

After another practice of being completely ignored (Karma even purposely missed his cue to see if he would speak to him then but alas, even the mistake goes disregarded). Karma groans to himself. This is only going to end if he forces it to.

He stands outside Gakushuu’s apartment and knocks three times exactly.

The response is immediate. “Go away, Akabane.”

And hey, that hurts for numerous reasons that include but are no limited to last name basis, the fact Gakushuu _knew_ it was him immediately, the fact he’s near the door but won’t open it.

“Can we talk?”

“Go _away_.”

“Please? Gakushuu, I need to apologise but I can’t do it while you’re on the other side of a door.”

Gakushuu pauses before mumbling, “I don’t forgive you.”

Karma ignores the pang in his chest. “You can hate me all you want but you’re very clearly sad because everyone’s noticing it. It’s affecting your performance.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad conductor?” Even the door can’t hide Gakushuu’s acidity.

Karma shakes his head. “No! And you know I wasn’t.”

There’s a sigh and a long pause and Karma thinks he might’ve lost the other. He goes to knock again when Gakushuu speaks again.

“I’m not sad,” Gakushuu refutes. “Well. I am. But I’m also mad.”

“A mixture of the two?”

“Sure.”

Karma can’t help but smile to himself. “Smad.”

“ _What_?”

“You’re smad.”

Gakushuu groans and then there’s the sound of a door unlocking. It’s on its chain so it doesn’t open fully but there’s enough space for Gakushuu’s face to appear. His eyes are narrowed, due to the bright hallway light and slightly red, as if he’s been crying.

“The word you’re looking for is _disgruntled_ ,” Gakushuu frowns. “And leave me alone before I call the police.” With that, Gakushuu pulls away from the door and attempts to shut it but before it closes, Karma sticks his foot in, attempting to wedge it open.

He had not anticipated how hard the other would shut the door though.

Karma immediately jumps backwards, clutching his foot. “Aw fuck.” He seethes, hopping around on one foot. He had asked for it but _still._ It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

There’s another sigh from the other side of the door and now, it opens fully. Gakushuu grumbles something to himself before dragging Karma inside. He sits Karma down on the couch.

“Foot up,” Gakushuu instructs, carefully unlacing Karma’s trainers. “Relax your foot, it’s tense.”

Karma does as he’s told; the pain being washed away as he remembers this is first conversation with Gakushuu in _ages_. “You’re good at this,” Karma comments offhandedly as he watches Gakushuu gently tap at the skin.

Gakushuu glances up, a frown on his face. “I’m a med student?”

Karma did _not_ know that. “You told me you were studying Mathematics.”

Gakushuu pauses before he winces. “Ah. Technically, I’m also doing some mathematics modules.”

It’s Karma’s turn to furrow his brow. “But a med student first and foremost.”

“I know, I know. I should’ve told you,” Gakushuu sighs, looking away. “But then you would’ve enquired about how a med student can work with gloves on.”

Karma knows he’s right. The med school thing would’ve opened up a whole new can of worms. At the mention of the gloves, Karma swallows his pride. “I’m sorry for what I did,” Because, really, it was more his actions than his words. He really shouldn’t have bought a violin (never mind buying the _same_ violin) in the first place. “Wasn’t my place to.”

Gakushuu’s eyes widen, as if he’s not used to being apologised. “You-“ His jaw tightens, and he looks away.

Ignoring the pain in his foot, Karma leans forward on the couch and takes Gakushuu’s gloved hands in his own. His head nods forward so that it’s resting against Gakushuu’s own and Karma’s only just made hyper aware of their breathing, slowly falling into the same rhythm.

Gakushuu’s apartment is always warm but never this warm and Gakushuu’s forehead is also hot to the touch and if Karma didn’t know better, he’d think Gakushuu were coming down with a cold. But he’s not. His face is that warm because of Karma and that thought makes Karma lightheaded.

It takes forever to convince every part of his body to _move_ but eventually, he finds the words he’s wanting to say, the ones that he seems to have been dancing around. “I really like you,” Karma admits quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut so he can focus on the feeling of being _near_ Gakushuu (it’s like pure, unfiltered tv static behind his eyes and he drinks it in). “I like you more than anyone I’ve liked before.”

It’s scary to think how much he likes Gakushuu. It’s an all-consuming feeling, like a small rowing boat being fully devoured by the raging sea. A leap of faith.

After a long while, Gakushuu speaks again. “Me too,” He must have blinked for his long eyelashes tickle Karma’s face. “You’re the least insufferable person I’ve met.”

Karma snorts lightly. “That’s a high compliment, coming from you.”

“Then you know how much you mean to me,” And Gakushuu pulls away, with that Serious Look on his face. “I like you. You like me. Another chance?”

“Another chance.”

* * *

One morning, when the sun has just risen from its slumber and there’s a light breeze that gently tickles, Karma awakes to the sound of violin being played in another room and all is right in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://wasp-factor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/waspfactor) :))
> 
> whip nae nae hope u enjoyed!


End file.
